


The Web of Comfort

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Series: Alone Protects Us [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, Changing Relationships, Evolving relationships, F/M, Gen, Johnlock freeform, Mollcroft freeform, Molly loves baking, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Loves Sweets, Mycroft loves spiders, POV Molly Hooper, POV Mycroft Holmes, The Fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-26 20:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14409657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: Inspired by feeling that Mycroft gets a raw deal when all he ever does is look out for Sherlock ! Molly finds herself getting to know Mycroft better and wondering if she ever really knew Sherlock well enough. This goes into 14 chapters probably and may have a fun epilogue. Any comments and feedback is most welcome !





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [The Web of Comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941027) by [Sweetiepookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetiepookie/pseuds/Sweetiepookie)



> I am delighted and honoured to share that the French translation of this work is now available as follows, thanks to sweetiepookie !!
> 
> Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941027/chapters/39807900
> 
> Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13143861/1/The-Web-of-Comfort 
> 
> Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/169854605-the-web-of-comfort

January

Despite having had low key surveillance on Dr Margaret ( Molly) Hooper for a couple of years now, Mycroft had never paid much attention to her beyond recognizing her obvious intelligence, high level competence, usefulness to Sherlock for his cases and the unfortunate emotional investment she had in his little brother. He had also observed his brother in order to be able to rein in any responding emotions in the early stages itself but there did not seem to be any fear of that.

Then came the disaster with Jim Moriarty. The fact that he had been Dr Hooper’s boyfriend till a few weeks before all hell broke loose had made him raise her surveillance levels. Of course he had no doubt that she was not involved in any way, but it intrigued him that the evil mastermind would have chosen her as his way to enter Sherlock’s life.  
Did he know something that Mycroft had missed? He watched his little brother even more carefully now for any tells but there seemed to be nothing obvious while Dr Hooper still seemed to be nurturing feelings for Sherlock. And if Mycroft did not know better, Sherlock seemed to be getting more emotionally invested in John but there was nothing he could identify specifically and he figured that being flatmates as well as work partners had obviously created some kind of attachment. 

Then came The Fall and Dr Hooper was suddenly quite literally at the eye of the storm. Of the 13 possible scenarios he had worked out with Sherlock, 2 of them needed her. Lazarus and Lucifer. Sherlock had unquestioning faith in her ability to deliver both perfectly. Mycroft had looked closely at him again but still did not see in his eyes any emotional attachment beyond the great respect for her professionally and infinite faith in her loyalty. He himself had also been suitably impressed at her determination to help Sherlock despite understanding the enormous costs she would have to pay in terms of not just her job but also her career, not to mention the emotional toll and the potential loss of friends. 

After Sherlock had left from their meeting that night, Mycroft leaned over and quietly asked—‘Dr Hooper…’  
‘I think you can call me Molly now,’ she said, softly, not looking at him directly.  
Mycroft cleared his throat. “ Molly,’ he said,” I was selfish enough to not raise this in front of Sherlock because I think even if he does not reciprocate your feelings, he would never want to see you hurt.”  
Molly had looked at him sharply then but she did not see the usual calculating and mocking expression she had seen in his eyes when he had spoken to Sherlock earlier. He was actually showing a glimmer of sympathy and understanding.  
She looked away again. Her feelings for Sherlock were so obvious that even the security guard at St Bart’s could see them on her face. Of course Mycroft knew. She did not say anything.

“Molly,’ Mycroft spoke again, “Now that we are alone, I do want to remind you that besides your job and career, both of which I will do my utmost to save, your life is also in very real danger if you take this on. Again, I will do my utmost to protect you but you have seen what Moriarty is capable of.”  
Molly just nodded, still facing him but still looking away. She knew what she was getting herself into but there was no lifetime, no universe in which she could stand by and not help Sherlock. Her expression must have said so clearly and Mycroft nodded, satisfied.  
“ Thank you,’ he said.’ My brother is lucky to have you and I am sorry that you can only give and not get anything back but you know, emotions are dangerous for people like him and me. All hearts are broken. Alone protects us.”  
She looked him in the eye at that. Really? She seemed to say. _Would you prefer it if I scurried off to save my little life and left your brother alone? Would that protect him ?_  
But she never said any of it and this time Mycroft had the grace to look away.  
“If I can add the burden of one more favour to this task’, he said, looking at the handle of his umbrella, ‘We may have to hide Sherlock at your apartment, at least till the funeral is over and we can take him out of the country. Is that something you could manage?  
‘Yes of course’, Molly said right away.  
Mycroft nodded again and got up, leaning on his umbrella. As he walked away his features showed an expression he was not used to. He felt wistful. Wasn’t Sherlock stronger because Molly was willing to stand behind him? Alone protected whom really? 

Mycroft went home and had supper and then picked up his bedtime reading book. Just as Sherlock loved bees, Mycroft loved spiders. He had an orange sorbet and read The Compendium of Intriguing Facts about Spiders: _If you’re not a fan of spiders, you’re far from alone. But before you swat away another spider web, remember this: relative to weight, the strength of a spider web rivals steel and Kevlar, the material used to make bullet-proof vests._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for TRF. Molly deals with things that need to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The months have been arbitrarily chosen. Just figured it was easier to start with January and keep going…..

**February**

The Fall was managed with precise perfection and Molly had undertaken the autopsy of the body and all the paperwork that followed.

Sherlock was now in her apartment.

After coming home she found that he was still in a state of shock and still covered in his own (old) blood. She had made him take a shower, she had cleaned his wounds and abrasions with infinite gentleness, given him food and medication and then sat by the bed holding his trembling hand as he slept in her bedroom. The sofa was too close to the door and her spare bedroom bed was too small for him.

She knew that Mycroft had surveillance on them and would know the status anyway but she waited till Sherlock fell asleep and then sent him a blank text as planned.

Mycroft saw her at the funeral two days later, her tears very real because, of course, the stress of it all was taking a toll on her. Seeing John weep at the grave made her almost break down and she had left as soon as she could.

She went home and saw Sherlock sitting on the sofa. He looked up at her and noticed her tear streaked face and turned away. He wanted to ask her how John was but he could not bring himself to speak. When she changed his bandages he saw that her hands were trembling but he did not say a word to her and neither did she speak to him. She made him drink some soup, and eat some pasta and gave him medicines for his mild fever and once again held his hand as he fell asleep. Then she sat on the sofa, watchful, tearful and terrified, till she finally fell asleep sometime in the early morning.

Mycroft watched them on video and for the first time in his life wondered what it must feel like to _care so much_.

He ate a tiramisu and read his book before he slept: _Webs contain vitamin K, which helps stop bleeding and promote healing. The ancient Greeks and Romans used spider webs as bandages (without knowing about vitamin K!). Today, some people still put webs on wounds._

*****************

Sherlock left the day after next, much before dawn.

Molly hugged him and cried a little and he let her because he knew that she may really never see him again and he could not take that away from her. John was alive! And Lestrade and Mrs Hudson were alive because this brave and kind woman had seen him, had asked him what he needed and given it to him in full perfection.

As she released him from her arms, he bent down and kissed her tentatively on the cheek.

‘I could never thank you enough Molly. Stay safe,’ he said, and then he was gone.

Molly sat on the floor and sobbed till she had no more tears left. Then she ate some chocolate cake she had baked some days ago and slept on the sofa as though sleeping on the bed was some kind of a betrayal to the man who may not be able to sleep in comfort for god alone knows how long.

Mycroft watched her surveillance video later that night, once his little brother had reached his new safe house outside the country. He sent her a blank text message as had been agreed. He had managed to keep her job safe and he had round- the- clock discreet surveillance around her home and workplace and commute.

He had offered her money which she had refused. Angrily in fact.

“He is my friend Mycroft. I care about him. I also did it to save John and Greg and Mrs Hudson. You cannot put a price on that! Don’t ever try to again!”

He had also offered her a job transfer which she had refused. Less angrily but just as firmly.

“No thank you, Mycroft. I am needed here”.

He knew she meant that if Sherlock ever came back, he would need her here, but he just nodded his agreement and did not ask her again.

All she had asked of him in return for everything was that he let her know, once in a while, whenever he could, that Sherlock was safe. And that if anything ever happened to him….he would let her know that also.

He shook his head and sighed. Truly, emotions were not an advantage.

He ate some fig pudding that night as he read his book. _The diving bell spider spends its entire life underwater—the only spider known to do so. It can survive underwater because of its bell-shaped web, which it anchors to aquatic plants. The spider collects air bubbles and places them inside to form one large bubble. Scientists recently discovered that the bell can also take up dissolved oxygen from the water, behaving as a kind of gill. If the spider isn’t very active, this combined oxygen supply can last it an entire day._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days pass. Molly talks to Greg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own these characters but seriously how could these people have been put on pause for 2 years and never interacted? So I have make sure they do, even if it causes all of them some pain………sorry!

**March**

Molly had had a week off after The Fall. Mike had insisted she take two weeks off but she had simply refused.

“Work is where I belong Mike”, she said,’ I need to stay busy.’ And although she said it softly, Mike could hear the determination and logic behind it and accepted her decision.

She heard that Greg had been suspended pending enquiry and would no longer be able to come to the morgue. She knew that John certainly would not, and she had no plans to run into Mrs Hudson.

She was safe among her dead.

It was those who were not dead who had the power to hurt her. This morgue and lab was her comfort zone even if every time the door opened she still looked up in anticipation and every time she used a certain microscope she remembered whose favourite it was and every time she went to make coffee she almost made a second cup – _black with two sugars._

Mycroft watched as she picked up her scalpel and continued once again to save lives by reading the messages of the dead and bringing the families what they needed-- justice or closure. He watched her gentle movements and the respect she showed the bodies and the competence with which she carried out her tasks. He remembered something they had learnt in English grammar. The kind cruelty of the surgeon’s knife. An oxymoron.

Each dead body was alone.

But Molly protected them.

So….. _alone protected whom exactly?_

Was it just possible that …. _caring_ (he shuddered even as he thought of the word), that _emotions_ actually made people stronger?

That night Mycroft had a small slice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting as he read his book: _Arachnophobia is the most common of all human fears. Sometimes sufferers have it so bad that they daren't even look at a picture of a spider or hear the name mentioned. There are many theories about the origin of the fear of spiders. The most common is that it evolved millions of years ago when the risk of a spider bite could mean certain death. Interestingly, however, fewer people are afraid of snakes - even though there are more injuries and deaths caused by snakes than spiders._

**April**

One more month had passed and Molly had gone into work on a Sunday because there had been a very big and terrible traffic accident and she had a huge backlog to deal with and no one alive who she had plans to meet with over the weekend anyway. She had finished 3 autopsies and now as she looked around her at all the violently dead people, she suddenly felt she needed to talk to someone.

She had called Greg as the safest option. ‘Just to say hello’ she said.

He was still suspended and going stir crazy with no work. He sounded gruff and tired.

‘Hi Molls’, he said,’ how are you? ‘

‘’Ok’ she said, ‘’well, busy, you know….” and her voice trailed off.

‘Are you at work today? Want to go to the pub after?’ He asked.

‘Umm…no’’ she said, ‘that’s too crowded and noisy. It’s Sunday remember? Do you want to get a cup of coffee later? Or let’s do that tomorrow after I finish work?’

‘Yeah sure, I would like that. Any excuse to get out of my flat will do really’, he sighed.

Molly baked some cheese straws that evening and packed them for Greg.

Greg seemed to have aged by so many years in the past 2 months. His hair was even more grey and he had dark circles under his eyes. He hugged Molly and even managed a small smile and said ‘Good to see you Molls, how are you holding up?’

And she had merely nodded, suddenly uncomfortable at the enormous lie that lay between them.

This man had also risked his career from the very first time he had trusted Sherlock. Given his on-off relationship with his wife, work was probably all he had too.

All their lives had culminated towards this point, this disaster, this epic tragedy, an inevitable trajectory ever since the supernova called Sherlock had exploded into their lives.

‘He was not a fraud Molly,’ Greg suddenly said vehemently, halfway through a cup of coffee, ‘He could not have been. Molly….. I knew him. I had seen him since his days when he used to….’he tapered off, not sure if she knew this history but then he shrugged and figured, _what was the point of such secrets now?_

“I first met him ten years ago when he had been caught along with some other junkies. He was high as a kite but even in that state he was sharper than half my team. There was something about him that made me go back to check on him at the hospital. He retuned my gesture with a sharp takedown. Said my wife was being unfaithful and my boss was trying to have me transferred. He also said I was an idiot’, Greg gave a rueful half smile at the memory.

“I have no idea how he did it but he was right of course. About all of it. He then told the nurse she should stop hiding her sister from their father and report him to me for his abusive behaviour. He said the doctor who was treating him should get himself into therapy for suicidal ideation. He was manic that day, looking around for more people to tear to shreds, but I knew even then that he could be polished into something better. He could become a _good_ man. If there was some way where he could use these gifts to _help_ people-- not that he would ever agree to thinking of his work that way. For him it was only about solving puzzles. But he did manage to stay clean. More or less. Mycroft had such a difficult time keeping him off the drugs and even keeping him alive for that matter………..There was one terrifying night when he almost had  fatal overdose. If it hadn’t been for Mycroft’s surveillance and rapid response……….," he shuddered at the memory of that night. "Sherlock had one more stint a few years later in rehab but I promised him that I would find something to keep his brain occupied if he could promise me to stay clean. And he did. Well…mostly….but……. he was not a fraud Molly?!” His eyes were very bright with frustration and some unshed tears.

“I had to arrest him just to make sure that no one else did. I just………I never expected………”

Molly had some idea about this drug history but not all the details. This certainly explained the high level of interference Mycroft had in Sherlock’s life.

She absorbed this information in her quiet way, patted his hand and said ‘Yes, of course Greg. We know him don’t we?....Knew him I mean. ( _Careful Molly! Careful_ ….). You did the best you could given what was going on. You know what they say about believing what is in the papers? I am sure your Superintendent will realize the truth soon and you will be back on the job before you know it. Why don’t you take up something to do while you are under suspension? You used to be a boxer in Uni isn’t it? Get back to it. Stay fit Greg, the police force needs you--- to fight on the side of the angels.’

Greg almost cried at that. He squeezed her hand and said ‘Molly you are a good friend, really you are. I am sorry……..you must really miss him too. He was no _sunshine_ ……but he was always with you in the lab on most days…….probably as much as he was at home…..” and his voice trailed off. 

‘Yes,’ she said softly, ‘Yes I do miss him, but I am sure justice will be done eventually……. That is what we do, don’t we? You and I, Greg? We do our work so that justice will be done. Here, take these’, she gave him the parcel of cheese straws, ‘I baked these for you. Let me know when you start the boxing classes!’

Greg gave her a big bear hug and they parted ways.

************************************************************

Mycroft saw the surveillance tapes in the evening after his work was done. He snorted when he heard Molly talk of angels. What fanciful romantic notions this woman had. Lucifer had been an angel before the fall and he was currently the Ruler of Hell. What was the point of being on the side of angels when the angels themselves switched sides? All it takes is a _blink_ and they move.

He ate a small cup of chocolate mousse as he read his book that night: _Webs are used for trapping prey, but spiders produce silk for[other reasons](http://www.nhm.org/site/activities-programs/citizen-science/spider-survey/spider-biology), too. Hunting spiders often make silk to use as drag lines to trail behind them as safety nets while they walk and stalk. Other spiders use a specialized silk to create egg sacs, or even to build a little protective shelter for themselves. Perhaps most remarkably, some spiders use their silk to pick up air currents and go sailing up into the sky, sometimes migrating hundreds of miles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch the Sherstrade Easter Egg?? And the Weeping Angels ??


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly weaves a web of comfort for all those who were hurt. Mycroft has a Mind Galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading about sassy Mary and I do want to write about her at some point, but she did not fit in this story, so this universe has no Mary.

**May**

Three months had passed since The Fall and Molly had finally built up the courage to meet Mrs Hudson.

She knew that John probably needed someone to talk to even more than Mrs Hudson did but she did not think she could look at his grief in the face and maintain a lie.

Mycroft watched as she met Mrs Hudson at a café some streets away from Baker Street since she did not want to risk running into John. They had tea. Mrs Hudson had patted Molly’s arm and said ‘Oh Molly. It’s just terrible’ many times and Molly had to fight back her tears of guilt.

‘That was lovely dear’’ Mrs Hudson said after an hour of lingering over more tea and some petit fours ‘but I am sure you have things to do. Do come over to Baker Street someday. It is too quiet. No gunshots……no violin. Poor John is so lonely. He does not even eat the scones I bake any more. Sherlock used to love those you know…..’ she trailed off, eyes moist and a very rare lost expression on her face.

Molly nodded and gave her a hug. She seemed unwilling to promise something she could not follow up on.

But her mother had raised her with fortitude and her father with kindness and she drew upon the deep wells of both inside her and finally, a month later, she did go to Baker Street and climbed up to 221 B.

 

**June**

Mycroft was watching the video of her visit in the evening, fingers steepled under his chin, in grudging awe at her courage and with increasing annoyance at her risk taking.

John was a mess and so was the flat. It was obvious that he had been crying and the kitchen was clean because it was empty. Molly made him a cup of tea and served the cinnamon muffins she had baked for him. She kept both by his side and sat with him till he was ready to talk. Of course when he finally did have the tea and eat the muffins and started to talk, he only wanted to speak of Sherlock, so they did. Both of them cried. She hugged him and comforted him. She said something which even made him smile.

When she finally left the flat after three heart wrenching hours, she stood downstairs and wept. With guilt, with the stress of having managed this encounter, with the stress of really not knowing whether Sherlock was still alive after all…..

Mycroft watched her and found himself thinking -- _How many times could this woman hurt and just carry on?_

He had this sudden urge to meet her again in person and it confused him. 

Like Sherlock had his Mind Palace, Mycroft had his Mind Galaxy. Much more complex and with different systems in orbit around different Suns, all light years away from each other. So, he took that confusing feeling and locked it away three levels down on a young moon around a peripheral planet in a new star system.

Satisfied with that level of protection, he went to the Diogenes Club for dinner.

That night he had a small bowl of crème brulee and read his book: _Some spiders’ webs are large enough to cross entire rivers._ _The female Darwin’s bark spiders build enormous super-strong webs across the water like a bridge —some extending more than 80 feet. The female will spend days building and reinforcing the bridge lines that she casts across rivers to anchor the web on each bank, and repairing damage to the centre caused by large insects. Meanwhile, the male of the species, which is considerably smaller than the female, hangs out in plants close to the webs to watch the show from the sidelines._

**********************************************

The next Sunday he received news that Sherlock had reached his new destination safely and had started infiltrating the local network. He sent Molly a blank text message as agreed. He saw her read it and close her eyes and smile. Then she went to the kitchen and spent the next half an hour baking some fairy cakes.

Mycroft wondered who she was going to take them to…..was she going to meet someone else now?! This was beginning to border on the irresponsible and he needed to give her a warning.

Later that evening day when she went out to buy some groceries, a black car stopped next to her and the door opened. Since Molly was expecting something terrible to happen all the time, she gasped and almost shrieked in terror but she recognized the person inside and stifled the sound. Mycroft looked at her and beckoned her in.

‘Hi…uh hello’, she said sitting inside the car. And suddenly her eyes widened and her hand flew to the chest—‘Sherlock? Is he…? Is he ok?”

“Yes he is,’ said Mycroft tersely. ‘And I would like him to stay that way.’

“Of course!’ She said. ‘What do you mean?’

“Little Red Riding Hood made one trip too many to meet her grandmother and that’s when the Big Bad Wolf found her.”

 “Umm ok……”Molly was quite confused now. “What…I mean why? Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, you have been making visits, he said, sharply. ‘ Out of the _kindness_ of your heart no doubt. But one wrong word or just a feeling that things are not what they seem and you may as well have flung my brother off the roof in the first place.”

“Never!” said Molly, colour rising in her cheeks and anger in her voice. “You should know better than to ever say something like that to me Mycroft! I will risk my life but never betray his!! Never! ” And with that she wrenched open the door and got out of the car.

Mycroft watched her go. It looked as though his brother’s faith in her loyalty was well placed. He felt a strange urge to apologize to her for hurting her _feelings_ but he wrapped it up quickly and buried it also on that new moon.

He wished he had some fairy cakes to eat that night as he read his book: _Because spider silk is so flexible, light, strong, and water resistant, it has a ton of potential applications. Taking inspiration from spider silk, researchers have recently made big strides in  designing medical devices and parts that need to be strong and stretchy or sticky. These include sutures, adhesives, and bandages as well as protective products that need to be strong and flexible but also light, like body armour and airbags._

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly keeps baking and Mycroft keeps up the surveillance. John says things which are lost in translation or simply lost.

**September**

Three months later Molly is baking an apple pie late on a Saturday night when the door to her flat opens. She stiffens, knowing that she still has a high security detail but wondering who it could be. She quickly shut the oven door, picked up a knife and came out to check.

When she saw who it was, her heart almost leaped out of her chest. She threw the knife down and threw her hands around him with such force that he staggered back and held himself up against the sofa. He was not one for physical demonstration but again, he could not deny her this. With his other hand he held her and stiffly bent his head down into her shoulder. Finally she let him go, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hands, sniffing and laughing now, embarrassed by her reaction, back to being the bashful Molly she always became around Sherlock. He gave her a tired smile and she nodded to him to go into her bedroom and shower. When he came out, clean but clearly exhausted, she gave him some fresh apple pie and a big glass of warm milk. He ate and drank without any complaint and went to sleep on her bed. As always, she held his hand till he fell asleep.

Once he was asleep she sent Mycroft a blank message and then she sat on her sofa, wide awake and smiling, keeping vigil almost all night till the early dawn.

Mycroft watched the video with a strange nagging feeling. Of course the apple pie and milk reminded him of his happy childhood days, before the big bad world intruded onto his own bubble. But there was a word, a thought, a _some_ thing at the tip of his tongue that he could not remember.

He had had a busy day -- border skirmishes in Iraq, sleeper cells in Sudan, suppressed coup in Turkey, stock market near misses in Japan--- and his mind had been kept busy almost to capacity. He had no time to read that night but as he went to sleep, his final thought was _Comfort_!

That was the word. That was the feeling. That was what he had remembered.

He dreamed of apple pies that night, placed on a table just behind a large, soft almost invisible web. He could see it but he could not touch it.

So near and yet so far……...

**November**

Sherlock had left the very next day after that one night’s rest and since then another couple of months had passed.

Molly had visited Mrs Hudson once again and she has been texting John once in a while, just touching base.

It was her day off today so she decided to call John after breakfast, intending to ask him how he was and if he wanted to meet but before she could say anything he replied so cheerfully that she was taken aback.

‘Molly! ‘John said, “I have been meaning to call you. Are you free for dinner tomorrow? ’Then he stopped, maybe thinking that dinner was too much. “Or tea if you like?”

‘Yes of course’, Molly said. ‘Tea would be lovely. In fact we can meet this evening if you want to’.

After lunch Molly baked oatmeal raisin cookies and packed some to take to John.

Mycroft watched them having tea later that day.

John looked better. He was delighted to get the cookies. He told Molly that her idea had been perfect and he had started to convert his blog into a book about his adventures with Sherlock. Molly had seen what even his therapist had not been able to. That there was no way for John to heal without binding himself even closer to Sherlock.

‘Thanks to you,’ said John’, and he put his hand on hers. ‘Your visit made all the difference Molly. I know how much you care for him. _Cared_ for him.’ He ran his fingers through his hair in slight distress at the change from present to past tense. “You probably spent almost as much time with him as I did. He was always in your lab and at the morgue. You were also his companion in the way that I was. ‘

(Mycroft raised one eyebrow a bit at that. So much perceptive behaviour from the good doctor, well, well, well.)

‘And despite that if you could not only keep going but also reach out to comfort me, while I descended into self- pity and depression, then what kind of a soldier did that make me?“ His voice dropped. He was clearly struggling to say more. ‘I still mourn him Molly. Every single day. I wake up and expect to see him in the flat. In the kitchen doing his experiments, or sprawled over the sofa or playing the violin or just………….just irritating me with something, the git.’ His voice broke. A solitary tear escaped and fell down his cheek.

Molly put her other hand on top of his and pressed it. She knew. She knew exactly how that felt. To think of him every single day. Every scrape of a key in the passage of her apartment floor had her catching her breath. Every tall man she saw on the street had her looking twice. Every text message she received made her panic.

“We had such a wonderful life together Molly and I don’t want to ever forget it and I want the whole world to know it. He was not a fraud. He was never capable of being one. He lied all the time of course and he manipulated people because he always wanted his own way, but he was never ever a fraud.’ his voice trembled, ‘’ I loved him Molly. I still do. I don’t think I could ever stop……..”

‘Yes John.’ She paused, trying to get her past and present tense correct and to control her own swirling emotions at this confession from him, before she spoke again. She worded her response carefully so he could have an out for what he had just said………. in case he needed to. “We all loved him you know. He may not have been an angel but he was always on the side of angels.’

‘Thank you Molly. I needed to say that to someone, to make it real. It is _always_ such a comfort to meet you. Always.”

They got up to leave soon after and John leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Molly wiped her own eyes, gave him a brave smile and made her way to the Tube station. She spent the ride wondering what John had actually meant to say but thought she should not read too much into it given the emotional turmoil he was clearly still suffering from.

Mycroft sat still for a very long time after watching the video. It seemed as though Molly may have saved the doctor’s life as much as Sherlock had. He had a day dream about angels eating cookies and he wondered how they would taste.

He did not even realize that he had completely missed understanding what John had confessed.

The next Wednesday he got a message about Sherlock having reached another location safely and that night he sent Molly a blank text. He watched her read it and smile. Then she got off the sofa and went into the kitchen to bake some lemon curd tarts.

He wished he could eat them as he read his book at night: _According to Islamic legends, Prophet Muhammad was hiding in a cave from those who wanted to murder him, he was saved from his enemies by a spider. The spider made a web across the entrance to the cave. When his enemies approached to kill the Prophet, they saw the web and thought that no-one could have entered the cave's entrance as it remained unbroken_ _._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets a Christmas surprise. Mycroft makes a silent vow hidden even from himself.

**December**

Molly Hooper is on duty at the morgue on Christmas Eve, as she has been for most years, since she has never had any family or close friends to celebrate with. The one Christmas party she had gone to at Baker Street last year had turned into a disaster with Sherlock launching into his deductions and making everyone cringe with his caustic takedown of her gift. Yes, he had apologized right away and in front of everyone but still….the morgue was safer. The dead told her their secrets but no one hurt her feelings.

She was so deep in thought that she never heard the door open or even close.

But then a soft tap made her look up from her desk. It was Mycroft. His umbrella had tapped on the floor and alerted her. She stood up at once, the colour draining from her face. If he had come all the way here and today of all days, that could only mean he had bad news and wanted to tell her in person. She felt faint and held onto the table and opened her mouth but could not speak.

“My apologies Molly’, he said quickly, realizing instantly what her reactions meant ‘I did not mean to frighten you. There is no bad news. I just thought”…he cleared his throat, a bit awkward now.

She was looking at him with wide eyes, unable to comprehend why he was here, in the cold bleak morgue at St Bart’s on Christmas Eve, talking to her, if there was no bad news.

“Well, I just thought you should not be alone on a day like this”.

With that being said, he held out a box to her. She took it with trembling hands and opened it to find a plum cake. A simple plum cake. She looked at it and blinked and then laughed and suddenly unbidden tears fell down her cheek.

_I really need to stop crying so much_ she thought to herself. _I must have cried more in the last year than I have in my entire life before that. But surely Sherlock was mistaken in calling his brother an Ice Man?? Would an Ice Man understand how heartbreakingly lonely and miserable she was and how deeply this touched her today?_

Before she could think any more, she had crossed the desk and was hugging the Ice Man, who looked as though he was going to faint. He could not remember the last time anyone had hugged him since he was 17 and Mummy had insisted on hugging him after the graduation ceremony.

Molly cried and laughed and let him go, wiping her face.

‘Come, sit with me,’ she said,’ let’s have cake! Give me a minute’.

She went to the locker room, washed her face, took out a box from her locker and brought it back to her desk. Mycroft was sitting there, legs crossed primly and one hand on the handle of his umbrella. She could just imagine how he must have straightened out his coat after her hugging ‘assault’ on his perfectly tailored outfit and she giggled. She opened the box in her hand and pushed it towards him.

He looked in and saw two mince pies. He looked back at her.

She shrugged—‘I made them yesterday. I need my comfort food on a day when I am miserable.’

‘But’ he said before he could stop himself, ‘you usually bake on the days I text you. I thought you are happy to get news about Sherlock’.

‘How…??! ‘She stared at him and started to say, then she realized. _Of course_ he continued to have surveillance on her even inside her flat. How else would he protect her? No…. how else would he protect Sherlock. _Oh well_. Too late for being squeamish about that now.

She looked away. ‘Yes, I am happy when I hear from you but that also makes me sad because it reminds me even more that he is alone, far away and with no one to look after him’. Once again a tear threatened to trickle down her cheek.

Mycroft found himself thinking that he would rather be taking down a dangerous fascist regime than see her cry and that he simply has no idea what to do or say to her. So he just picked up a mince pie and took a bite.

It was perfect.

The base was crisp and crumbly and the mince was soaked in something besides brandy. Was it honey? Was there just a hint of ginger? He took two more bites to find out and finished it and licked his fingers clean. He was so engrossed in eating that he looked up only when he heard her laugh.

‘Go on then’ she said, ‘eat the second one also. I can have the cake’.

Then she waved her hand around and said “And these good people have all had their last supper” and she gave a snort of laughter.

At that he did something he had not done in years ( _or maybe ever?)._ He grinned. He grinned like a Cheshire Cat who had been invited to tea by Alice.

He picked up the second mince pie and said—‘Well Molly, if you _insist_ ’ and took a big bite out of it, this time closing his eyes to savour the taste.

He took one more bite. _Comfort_. That is what it tasted of. That was what his brain was reacting to.

At that very moment, in this room of death, he suddenly felt very alive and he also recognized a wave of _something_ coursing through his brain at the knowledge that there was someone else on this planet who knew that his brother was alive and what it had cost to have him ‘die’ and who understood to some extent the burden he carried. It was heavier than any burden he had carried so far and now suddenly it felt as though it had shifted, just a little bit. It was not lighter in any way but maybe it just seemed to be a bit easier to carry?

One part of his brain mused…..maybe _sharing_ it with someone made him stronger…….while another part of brain whispered a warning—Remember! _Alone_ protects us…….

But when he opened his eyes to look at Molly again he knew that something had altered permanently between them.

How did she do this? How could she be so emotional and ready to cry all the time yet carry inside her the courage of a small army? How could she keep loving Sherlock when he did not and probably never would reciprocate her feelings? How could she have the strength to bring comfort to others when her own heart was breaking?

Through this avalanche of questions, finally his brain asked him the most difficult question, very quietly, stealthily, in a whisper:

Who does _she_ turn to for comfort?

And he knew what the answer to that was going to be even if he would never dare to admit it properly even to himself, let alone say it aloud.

It would be him.

To the best of his abilities, he would make sure it would be him.

That night he remembered the taste of the mince pie as he read his book: _Spider dragline silk has a tensile strength of roughly 1.3 GPa. The tensile strength listed for steel might be slightly higher—e.g. 1.65 GPa, but spider silk is a much less dense material, so that a given weight of spider silk is five times as strong as the same weight of steel._

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets kidnapped. No don't worry, it's by Mycroft.

**February**

It has been two months since Christmas and an entire year since The Fall and although Sherlock has been dismantling the criminal web as fast as he can, the danger is still not over. One day Mycroft gets information which suggests that the fake death is being suspected and that Molly’s role in the deception may have been discovered. She may be in danger from Moriarty’s second- in- command Sebastian Moran.

He has her picked up that very evening straight from work and taken to his house. Later he apologizes for the ‘kidnap’ and explains the risk to her. “I cannot manage the level of security you would need especially if you keep going to work. So would you consider making it easier for me to protect you by taking leave for a month and telling everyone you are away on vacation but staying here? John is the only one who has that level of protection right now as does Mrs Hudson but we cannot manage three of you being at Baker Street.”

He waits for her answer as she seems to be thinking and hesitating.

‘Sherlock is hard at work dismantling Moriarty’s network but even with his skills and genius, some things take time. He would want you to be safe. ’ he says, knowing that she would not refuse this. “Of course if you would actually prefer to go abroad for a vacation that can also be arranged though having you here would be better.”

She looks at him and nods in agreement.

And just like that, Mycroft also has a flatmate now.

He tells Molly that her clothes, laptop, some books and other essentials will be brought over later by Anthea. He gives her a new phone to use with a sim card that has only his number saved on it for safety. He also gives her a DVD box set of Midsomer Murders and enjoys watching her smile at the gift and shake her head.

“You knew I was going to say yes didn’t you?” she asks him and he simply shrugs his shoulders. ‘Well, where am I supposed to be on holiday?’

‘Where would you like to be?’ he asks her.

‘Oh I don’t know,’ she says, ‘why don’t you decide for me, as usual?’

As soon as she says that she thinks that was a _bit_ uncalled for given the circumstances and tries to cover up by saying flippantly—‘Maybe Iceland?’

‘So you would take a holiday from being in a cold and empty space to a country which is basically a cold and empty space?’ Mycroft says with a subtle lifting of one eyebrow. ‘Who would believe that?’

He looks at her carefully then, seeming to read her very mind and he says ‘I think you would like to go to India and see the Taj Mahal. Then maybe on to Bali for some relaxation and then return via Venice.’

She just stares at him. Then she blinks and gives a shout of laughter.

Mycroft looks completely startled by that and a bit irritated. ‘What?’ he asks her ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Huh, you basically gave me the same itinerary as ‘Eat Pray Love’. Italy, India, Indonesia. Very funny Mycroft.’ Then she shakes her head at him since he clearly has no idea what she is referring to. ’ “Never mind. Let’s just stay with something local. No one will believe me if I say I went to all those places and unless you can get me a fake tan and lots of fake photos, which you probably can but… it’s safer to just say the Lake District or Wales or Sussex or something.’

With that she sits down and texts everyone who she thinks might worry about her absence. Or at least everyone who should know that she will be away. Obviously Mike Stamford has been sent a formal leave letter. So she informs John, Greg and Mrs Hudson. They all respond with similar messages telling her she needs a break and to take care and be in touch when she gets back.

After dinner she goes into the kitchen and rustles up a simple berry pudding using whatever is in the fridge.

That night Mycroft eats the berry pudding and reads his book before sleeping: _Male spiders like to give presents. Not only do some species of spiders like to serenade their prospective partners with a dance, but they also like to offer their loved ones a gift wrapped in silk to try and sweet talk their way into a date._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets into a comfort zone and Mycroft's comfort zone is being threatened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This month will be split into its weeks since that’s the pace at which the action unfolds…….:)

**March**

**Week one**

They say it takes only 7 days to form a habit and true enough, within a week they have fallen into an easy pattern. She does her research and writing during the day and he goes off to work.

She works on her two new papers, both of which surprise Mycroft in ways he cannot understand. Is her sense of humour really this morbid?? Is this her way of coping? Does he really know her at all??

She ignores his raised eyebrows and carries on typing.

The first paper is “ _It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the landing. The Epidemiology of Fatal Trauma: distinguishing suicide as causation_. “

The second paper is called “ _The Last Supper: a literature review of the final meal leading to murder convictions.”_

Mycroft goes to work keeping his usual odd hours and cloak- and- dagger life but somehow in the evenings he finds himself reluctant to go to the Club anymore and makes his way back home instead.

Within a day of moving in Molly is on first name basis with all the kitchen and household staff but despite all her efforts she never manages to get them to call her anything other than Ma’am. She has even taken to cooking something for supper almost every day. Mycroft had explained to her that she really didn’t need to ( which was his way of saying- _please don’t_ ) but she had smiled at him and said she enjoyed it and being under a kind of house arrest meant she really had nothing much else she could indulge in once her writing work was done, so, that was that.

She then also explained to him (in a conversation he completely failed to understand the purpose of), about someone called Maya who was originally from Goa and had apparently worked in his kitchen for ten years and was now teaching Molly how to cook Indian dishes and how his butler Jeffrey had family in Jamaica and David and Kwan and so many more names and so many useless facts that he just tuned her out, nodding and smiling thinly once in a while, making a mental note to check on everyone’s security clearance again.

His butler (Jared? Jensen?) has even started smiling when he serves Molly at the dining table and the other day had terrified Mycroft by almost breaking into a smile when he served _him_. Mycroft had barely raised one eyebrow at that and the gesture was stopped even before it could start. Molly must have noticed something though because she suddenly informed him ‘They are all so happy that you are eating in more often.” And then she smiled at him, so he just had to smile back a little and give the briefest of nods.

Molly has also been baking on Wednesdays and weekends. It has been like a symphony for his taste buds. So far she has fed him a melodious steamed pudding, meringues that were like tiny minuets, a divine sonata of an upside down cherry cake and a splendid soaring Pavlova. He has had to wake up earlier every day to put in an extra half hour on the treadmill since he simply does not have the willpower to refuse any of these nor can he bring himself to ask her not to bake them.

He has also gotten used to seeing her at breakfast every morning, wearing her pink or lavender T- shirts and an unending series of cartoon pyjamas (Winnie the Pooh?? Some kind of white cat face with bows? Yellow blob creatures with specs and an odd number of eyes, saying Banana? Why? Why?? ).

She asks him questions about things she reads in the morning papers, most of which he cannot answer with even a grain of truth without having to arrest himself under the National Securities Act.

By the end of the first week he notices though that she avoids showing him any of the articles which refer to drug busts or drug gangs or anything related to drug addicts, which he thinks is kind of ….naïve but dare he say…a bit _sweet_? Surely she cannot think that he does not _already_ know what has been printed in the papers and even beyond?! But this is probably as a result of her chat with Greg and her knowledge of Sherlock’s drug use history and his own role in it.

She wants to somehow…. _protect_ him? He does not know what to think of that and it puzzles him.

By the time he reaches his office his brain has already considered 6 different scenarios for the way the upcoming Middle East oil negotiations could go, the support he needed to put in place for Sherlock so he could acquire his next target, the actions needed on the report from the scientist he had inserted into the German expedition to the Arctic circle and oh, he has also figured out who was behind the latest attempt to kidnap the corgis from the Palace.

As he gives instructions to the team and sits down for his first cup of tea and chocolate Digestives, the thought suddenly surges again to the forefront.

Molly wants to protect _him_?!

And he sits still for a minute. He cannot remember having that thought perhaps ever in his conscious life.

_He_ was the one who was always watching over everyone.

Starting from his little brother to eventually the Queen and Country.

Someone to watch over _him_??

He feels an odd thrill go down his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Mycroft cannot remember the name of his butler beyond the letter J much like Sherlock and G... Lestrade  
>   
> • Mycroft has minions by the dozen but doesn’t recognize them as the cartoons on her pyjamas ;)
> 
> • Quote from Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass: Alice laughed: "There's no use trying," she said; "one can't believe impossible things." "I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Red Queen. "When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
> 
> Unlike the Red Queen, Mycroft does not need to BELIEVE in 6 impossible things before breakfast. He just goes ahead and DOES them like the badass he is.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluffy domesticity. Romance often unfolds in very un-dramatic ways, over shared conversations and evenings in…..isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that these two are inside my head ( or am I inside theirs?!) these chapters are just writing themselves ! Lots of the references are detailed in the end notes.

**Week Two**

She has now taken to sitting next to him at the breakfast table instead of across from him, so she can show him the articles in the newspapers and sometimes (heaven help him!), she even shows him the cartoons she finds funny and then snorts with laughter.

One Sunday morning she actually slaps his wrist as he is reaching out for a second helping of jam. ‘Stop it Mycroft’, she says, giggling, ‘or you can’t afford to eat what I am going to bake today.”

He is too stunned to even react and he notices his butler (Justin? Jayzee?) disappear rapidly out of the dining room as Molly continues to giggle and look at him.

He clears his throat to retain some dignity and says “Oh, I was just going to put the lid back on the jar you know.’ She narrows her eyes at him and gives him a look.

That night he enjoys the rich chocolate mud cake with a hot gooey filling and as he cautiously takes a (small) second helping, (keeping an eye on her in case she decides he should not and slaps his wrist again) he says smoothly ‘I am so glad I put the lid back on the jam in the morning.”.

When she says ‘Yeah, right’ and gives him the warm knowing smile born of an inside joke, it feels almost as good as the hot gooey chocolate …or even better.

*************************************************

Mycroft had often explained to Sherlock as a child that _ordinary_ people loved patterns. Their tiny brains were soothed by repetition and routine. That is what made the deductions so easy in the end. All you had to do was look at the pattern.

Well, it looked like he was being soothed by the dull routine of a pattern himself, and had as yet failed to recognize it quite completely.

Already, Mondays and Tuesdays have become TV nights, Wednesday and Thursday are reading nights.

It is Wednesday today and they sit down to read after dinner.

He is reading a book on conspiracy theories called ‘And The Truth Shall Set you Free’, because he needs to stay updated on how much people have really found out about the truth.

She is reading a book called ‘Neverwhere’.

_Intriguing title_ he thinks. _Sounds like a place he would belong to..…..he should borrow it when she has finished._

She senses something and looks up at him and smiles.

‘Enjoying your book?’ she says. ‘Do you know that Gloria Steinem had said ‘The Truth Will set you Free but First it will Piss you Off’?

He had snorted at that. ‘That woman needs to run MI6 and I need a T shirt with that quote on it!”.

She had chuckled at the thought of him wearing a T- shirt at all, let alone one with a political sounding statement. “Sounds like a plan! Maybe I will borrow the book when you have finished.’

‘Yes sure’, he replies, ‘and I was just thinking of asking you the same!’

“Here let me take a photo of the cover so I can remind you once I go back.” She clicks a photo on her new phone, hums an ok and returns to her book.

All he has heard is ‘ _once I go back_ ’ and it is a full minute before he remembers that he is reading a book.

************************************************************

On the first Friday after she moves in they listened to music after supper. He avoided playing anything that had a violin solo but after listening to the entire seven and half minutes of the world’s shortest opera -Deliverance of Theseus, Molly was restless.

‘Who plays that grand piano?’ she had asked him, and he had admitted to being the one.

‘Oh would you play something for me? ’ she said and when he had hesitated she had added ‘Please?’

And so he had.

His fingers had played a minimalist piece called Metamorphosis. He did not know why his fingers had chosen it but she seemed to like it.

‘That was really amazing,’ she had said with her lovely smile, a far- away look in her eyes as though still lost in the melody and his brain stirred with something he could not even name since it was so alien.

_Was it affection? Was it longing? Was it…… desire?_

Surely it was some kind of _sentiment_? So he quickly wrapped up the un-named danger and buried it on that young moon in the new solar system.

Later as he left for his bedroom he thought – _maybe I will play Ravel for her next Friday._

And so the Friday evenings had become music evenings.

Molly went to her bedroom, feeling oddly restless. She rarely listened to classical music and this piece had made her feel things she could not define. But mostly she remembered Mycroft’s face as he played, with his eyes closed, fingers moving across the piano with confidence. Surely a man who could understand, experience and play music like this could not be as un-feeling as Sherlock made him out to be.

And her last thought as she fell asleep was to realize that for a person as private and even secretive as him to have even agreed to play for her, to allow her into that sacred space where he made music, meant something really special and she smiled to herself.

That night he nibbled on a marshmallow and tried not to think of her smile after the piano recital as he read his book: _Yes, spiders are among the species that have what is known as an exoskeleton. Much like crabs, the hard, supportive parts of their body structure - the skeleton - are on the outside of their bodies. This way, the skeleton not only provides support, but it also provides protection by encasing the spider's vital organs in a shielding outer shell. In order to grow, the spider undergoes a 'molt' and sheds its old exoskeleton before a new one hardens around it. This is a time when spiders are quite vulnerable and so they usually hide away to molt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Theseus was a hero in Greek mythology. While having all the qualities of a traditional hero, such as strength and courage, he was also intelligent and wise. His early adventures benefited the city and region of Athens, helping in the consolidation of the Athenian power through shrewd political manoeuvring. (Reminds us of someone??)
> 
> • The Deliverance of Theseus was the world’s shortest opera at 7.5 minutes but has recently been displaced by one which is 4 minutes long. However that one involves brushing teeth and somehow I do not think it would appeal to Mycroft’s highbrow tastes, haha. 
> 
> • And the Truth Shall Set You Free is a book written by David Icke, published in 2004. In this he claims to expose what he calls the ‘real story behind global events’. Apparently he ‘lifts the veil on a web of interconnected manipulation to claim that the same few people, secret societies and organizations control the daily direction of our lives’.
> 
> • ‘Neverwhere’ by Neil Gaiman is the story of Richard Mayhew and his trials and tribulations in London. At the start of the story, he is a young businessman, who stops to help a mysterious young girl who appears before him, bleeding and weakened, as he walks with his fiancée to dinner to meet her influential boss. 
> 
> • Gloria Steinem is an American feminist, journalist, and social political activist who is recognized as a leader and a spokesperson for the American feminist movement in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Given what a quiet badass Molly is I think she would be rather aware of feminism, especially given her own position as a young woman doctor.
> 
> • Solo Piano (1989) is an album of piano music composed and performed by Philip Glass. The title of five of the seven tracks, "Metamorphosis", refers to and was inspired by the 1915 short story of the same name, written by Franz Kafka


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another week and some fluffy domesticity as Molly and Mycroft get more comfortable with each other over philosophical conversations. ‘You may not believe it but it’s not always about Sherlock! I think like this all the time. Being around dead people all day does tend to make one philosophical about life. "

**Week Three**

It is Tuesday and they had just finished watching TV.

Mycroft had come in late that evening and found Molly waiting for him to have supper. It made him feel odd. Someone was waiting for him at home.

Waiting.

For _him_.

One more carefully wrapped dangerous thing was hastily buried on the moon.

Now the TV had been switched off but neither of them moved.

‘’Do you believe in _Karma_?’ Molly asked, out of the blue.

His first instinct as always was to deflect, to give him the precious seconds to think of an adequate response. ‘What brought this on? Have you been talking to ……uh….the person from India who works in the kitchen?’

‘Maya. Her name is Maya,’ Molly said with a slight roll of her eyes. ‘Do you know that _maya_ means _illusion_? She said Hindus believe that the entire universe is a dream of the gods and we should always remember that so we don’t get too attached to anything here. It is all temporary.’

‘Yes, I am aware of that philosophy’ says Mycroft. ‘It is an interesting perspective’.

‘So, do you believe in destiny? That everything happens for a reason? That we are all part of a story that has already been written?’ asks Molly, very seriously.

Mycroft shrugs one shoulder—‘Not really. Sounds a bit fatalistic to me. My entire life has been given over to making things happen the way I need them to be. How does that match up?’

‘Well….maybe you were meant to do exactly that because the things you make happen are the ones that were meant to happen?’

He looks at her carefully and asks her very slowly. ‘Is something bothering you? Is this about Sherlock? I know you have been trapped here for two weeks and it must be difficult and maybe you are trying to rationalize what is happening?’

‘Oh no’, she gives a short laugh. ‘You may not believe it but it’s not always about Sherlock! I think like this all the time. Being around dead people all day does tend to make one philosophical about life. It’s just that ……well,’ she hesitates, ‘I just never had anyone to talk to before who was interested enough or thoughtful enough to have this conversation with.’

She unfolds herself off the chair—‘Well, I won’t keep you with my existential nihilist ramblings. You have had a long and tiring day I am sure. Goodnight’.

And with that she leaves, while Mycroft sits there, fingers tapping on the arm of his chair. Existential nihilism. Hmmm. This. Here. Today. Molly being in his house. Having this conversation. Was this always meant to happen? And what does it mean if it was? And what does it mean if their actions made it happen?

And ….why does it scare him a little to think that somehow it may never happened because of something they did or did not do?

Molly gets ready for bed thinking about how she could never have imagined having this conversation with Sherlock and he would have probably just dismissed her ramblings off hand. Mycroft had taken it seriously and responded thoughtfully and it felt so good to have someone like that to talk to. This. Here. Today. Her being in this house. Having this conversation. Was this always meant to happen? And what does it mean if it was? And what does it mean if their actions made it happen?

And ….why does it scare her a little to think that somehow it may never happened because of something they did or did not do?

Mycroft retires to bed with some leftover peach cobbler from Sunday and reads his book.

_Spiders play a prominent role in the mythology of many ancient cultures._

_Dakota decoration often use the symbol of spider or spider’s web. It is believed that any warrior adorned with spider symbol is invincible to arrows and bullets. Just as the arrow or bullet can pass through a spider’s web, leaving it relatively intact, it was believed that the projectile would pass through the brave warrior and leave him unharmed. Also, since the spider’s web is difficult to see unless it is wet, the wearer of spider symbol is given a type of invisibility._

_In Hindu philosophy the spider sitting in its web watching till its prey getting entangled represents being caught in the illusion of the physical world._

******************************************************************

On Thursday after dinner he is browsing through a new book though he hasn’t finished the first one. This one is a thriller called ‘The Theseus Paradox’. It is listed as fiction but he was told it contains some uncomfortable truths about the London bombings. Of course Molly wants to know what the title means and he explains: “The Ship of Theseus, also known as Theseus's paradox, raises a question of identity – whether an object which has had all its components replaced remains fundamentally the same object.”

‘Hmm, that sounds intriguing’ said Molly. “So…. for example, if I replaced all the organs in a body with someone else’s then who is that person really? But I guess our identity is more tied up with our head and heart than say with our kidneys or liver really isn’t it? Although the heart isn’t really the physical seat of our feelings….it’s all really in the head. So…’she muses,’ If I did a head transplant for example, would the person be the one whose head it is or the body?’

‘It’s a conundrum’ says Mycroft. ‘There are also those who predict that eventually we will be able to transfer human consciousness to robots thus enabling us to be effectively immortal. It assumes that our identity is primarily our memories.’

‘A lot of it is’, replies Molly, thoughtfully, ‘But……. how can one make new memories in a robot body? That would be a kind of frozen immortality. Not fun…..And how can one transfer feelings? Yes, yes, I know, you don’t do _feelings. All hearts are broken. Alone protects us._ ’ she almost rolls her eyes before he can interrupt.

Then with a wink she says,’ ‘But you know what? The new robot body won’t be able to taste and create memories of the peanut butter cake with salted caramel icing that I am planning to make on Saturday. Surely you would not trade that for something as trivial as _immortality_ now would you Mr. Holmes?’ And she laughed.

He knew she was laughing at him, a little, but found that he didn’t mind it at all. He smiled back shaking his head at her.

One part of his brain whispered, _I would not trade this for anything_ while the other part half- heartedly prepared to dig another hole on the moon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> • The Theseus Paradox, written by David Videcette. Here is a review excerpt --The stunning breakthrough thriller based on real events, from the Scotland Yard detective turned author (The Detective Inspector Jake Flannagan series). ‘I was not a victim of the bombings, but in many ways, my life was altered forever by that day too, along with a large proportion of the people whom I worked with on Operation Theseus. What started off as a normal day at work within the Anti-Terrorist Branch, turned into a nightmare that still haunts me and many others. I can't tell you the truth, but I can tell you a story’
> 
> • Existential nihilism is the philosophical theory that life has no intrinsic meaning or value. With respect to the universe, existential nihilism suggests that a single human or even the entire human species is insignificant, without purpose and unlikely to change in the totality of existence.
> 
> • Digital immortality (or "virtual immortality") is the hypothetical concept of storing (or transferring) a person's personality in more durable media, i.e., a computer, and allowing it to communicate with people in the future.
> 
> • A demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form an emotional connection. It's more commonly seen in, but by no means confined, to romantic relationships. The term demisexual comes from the orientation being "halfway between" sexual and asexual. A sapiosexual is one who finds intelligence to be sexually attractive. 
> 
> That’s just another way of saying brainy is the new sexy  The chances are high that having an intellectual and philosophical conversation is what will work for these two over any other form of courtship?! (and then there are all those cakes and puddings of course………)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly needs comforting and Mycroft is totally there for her. ‘Molly’, he said, slowly and carefully. ‘The world thinks soldiers are strong. Policemen are strong. The world’s only Consulting Detective is strong. His landlady who was married to a drug dealing mobster is strong.’

**Week Four**

She could sense that something was wrong when the week began. Something had not gone as planned and Mycroft had been extremely tense and there had been many phone calls, made and received. She had stayed quiet at the breakfast table yesterday and retired to her room after supper, knowing he would not want to be distracted by TV.

Or by her.

But tonight she was too restless to sleep so she went back out to the living room after half an hour. She knew he would tell her if it was anything concerning Sherlock but she found herself being more worried about Mycroft himself.

She suddenly realized how difficult it must be to be him.

To have a brother like Sherlock to protect, with his brilliant but reckless life; drugs and murderers a constant shadow. To have an entire country to protect, with all those ‘ordinary’ emotional people milling around practically asking to be crushed. To have someone like her stuck in his house, intruding on his personal space in this time of crisis and not being very useful at all.

She felt overwhelmed and helpless and stood there halfway to the sofa, with silent tears starting to fall and just then Mycroft walked in, fully dressed and carrying his umbrella. It seemed that he was about to leave again although it was so late.

He saw her and stopped.

‘Sorry’, she said, wiping her tears and turning away from him slightly. ‘You must really hate me for being so weak all the time.’

He was quiet for so long that she thought he had left the room. She turned back and saw him looking at her with a strange expression.

‘Molly’, he said, slowly and carefully. ‘The world thinks soldiers are strong. Policemen are strong. The world’s only Consulting Detective is strong. His landlady who was married to a drug dealing mobster is strong.’ He paused.

‘And I have seen you wipe the tears off each one of them and comfort them and hold their hands……and enabled them to sleep or work or write or just get on with their lives. And after all that I have seen you wipe your _own_ tears and carry on. If that is a weakness then I may have to inform the Oxford Dictionary office about re-defining the word.’

He raised an eyebrow, took out a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

‘Oh Mycroft!!!’ she said, choking back a half laugh- half sob and almost jumping on him and hugging him so hard he could barely breathe. ‘That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me!’ And before he can save himself she is on tiptoe kissing him on the cheek.

It is a good thing he has his brolly to lean on or he would have found it difficult to remain standing.

‘Well,’ he says, clearing his throat, and tipping his head to her, keeping his voice very, very, steady while one part of his brain was busy processing one more dangerous package to send to the new moon in the rapidly expanding series of buried terrors (treasures?), ‘I have to go back to the office to deal with an urgent matter, but I wish you a good night’s sleep Molly.’

Molly went to bed in a much happier frame of mind that she had been in for two days and she did indeed manage a good night’s sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite all his talk about emotions being a waste of time and ‘alone protects us’’, she could see that everything he did for Sherlock was entirely out of love. That is all it was. He would always be everything his brother needed—a rock, a shadow, a shelter, a sword, a shield, a sanctuary.  
> She had no doubt that he was ruthless and manipulative and dangerous at his work place which is what he needed to be but then she was also capable of removing a human heart in under a minute.

**Week Five**

It has been just over a month of ‘vacation’ for Molly now and while there has been news of some progress in reaching Moran and the remaining members of the network, the danger was not yet over and she was still at Mycroft’s house. She sent Mike Stamford an email explaining some flight scheduling error and requesting another week off. She does not know how much longer she can stay away from work.

They do not talk about Sherlock any more but Mycroft thinks she is thinking of him when she bakes, like she used to earlier. Sometimes she looks into the distance wistfully, twisting her hair around her fingers and seems to be about to ask him something but probably realizes that it is redundant. They are living together. If he had any news he would tell her.

‘Do you miss work?’ he asks her that Monday morning, as he is about to head off after a breakfast of oatmeal porridge and orange juice.

‘Yes’ she says simply. ‘Work is almost all I have really. But this break has been good too. It has given me time to think and reflect and get on with my writing. Also, you know, being here with you means that I am not sitting alone worrying about not knowing what is happening and whether you will forget to message me if something does’. She smiles at him. ‘Being here I can see that you are worrying enough for both of us.’

She wants to tell him that Sherlock had told her he was called the Ice Man but she knew now that he was so wrong. She knew that he really did care even if he dared not accept it. But she also knows him well enough now to realize that he would not be happy to hear it so she keeps the thought to herself and simply waves him a bye as he leaves for work.

Despite all his talk about emotions being a waste of time and ‘ _alone protects us’’_ , she could see that everything he did for Sherlock was entirely out of love. That is all it was. He would always be everything his brother needed—a rock, a shadow, a shelter, a sword, a shield, a sanctuary.

She wants to tell him that all this time to think in peace has also made her wonder whether she herself ever knew Sherlock well enough as a person and maybe had been in love with an image she had created of him. That raw brilliance, the sheer power of his will, the force of his personality, the determination to be on the side of the angels. It was like being in love with the Sun perhaps. You were too blinded by its brilliance to realize that you could never really get any closer without burning up. And the Sun could never really love you back…….

Mycroft was also nothing like she had thought he was. She had always known that he was a genius, more so that Sherlock even. But now she knew that he was also kind (that plum cake on Christmas day) and he was funny (the T- shirt slogan!) and he was thoughtful (the DVD box set). He had been caustic with her in the early days but he needed to make sure he could trust her with his brother’s life and he did not really know her then, so that was forgive-able. But since then he had always been only kind and thoughtful towards her.

She had no doubt that he was ruthless and manipulative and dangerous at his work place which is what he needed to be but then she was also capable of removing a human heart in under a minute.

******************************************************

That afternoon she finally submits both her articles to the journal using the encrypted browser and is lazily trawling through the internet afterwards when she remembers the T- shirt. She searches for print order T- shirts and orders two from a decent looking website. One in grey (Large size) and one in pink (medium size). She asks for the quote to be printed on them and wonders where she should have them delivered. She does not know when she will be back at her own flat and she cannot possibly place an order to this safe house. So she decides that St. Bart’s is the safest option and makes the online payment and places the order.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TV nights mean Doctor Who. Mycroft loves the idea of all of time and space as a playground. So much knowledge, so much power, so much potential. So much everything. And then one night Mycroft dreams that he is the Doctor. He opens the door of the TARDIS and looks out onto infinite galaxies, infinite potential lifetimes and he turns around to find his companion so that they can go on endless adventures together. Any guesses ??!

It’s a TV night. After 2 episodes of Midsomer Murders, Mycroft had asked her to please spare him from having to watch more trauma and betrayals and pain that he was already dealing with every single day. They had tried Qi and Monty Python and eventually settled on watching Doctor Who.

Mycroft has been enjoying it although the plot holes are sometimes so huge you could fit an entire galaxy in it. But he loves the idea of all of time and space as a playground. So much knowledge, so much power, so much potential. So much everything.

In fact the latest Doctor reminds him of Sherlock, with his long lean face, shock of curly hair (although it is almost white), impulsive and reckless behavior and the need to always win. He has a glimpse in his mind’s eye, for just a fleeting second, of his brother as an older man, grey haired but eyes still bright with the fire and ready for a challenge.

He sees himself too, older, white haired , sitting on the chair reading a book, his brolly resting against him, a glass of wine on the table next to him.

He likes that.

And then his brain really and truly frightens him by showing Molly sitting right next to him, grey hair mixed with soft brown, curled up on the sofa, wearing specs, reading a book and smiling at him, with a plate of cookies next to her.

He gets up from his chair so abruptly at that, almost in a panic, that she is startled.

He tells her he has remembered something he needs to work on.

‘Ok’, she says and picks up the remote and switches the TV off.

‘Oh, don’t stop for me, you go ahead’, he tells her politely as he is leaving the room.

‘No, it’s fine.’ she says. ‘It’s no fun watching it alone really’.

_It’s no fun watching it without you_ is what he hears, _alone is no longer a good option_ and he flees to his bedroom without saying a word.

He cannot concentrate on reading so he just goes to sleep.

That night he dreams that he is the Doctor. He opens the door of the TARDIS and looks out onto infinite galaxies, infinite potential lifetimes and he turns around to find his companion so that they can go on endless adventures together.

Molly is standing there looking at him with a soft smile. She asks him ‘Do you know what else is bigger on the inside?’ And she puts her hand over her heart.

Mycroft wakes up in a terrified sweat- soaked panic. _What is happening to him?_ _Is this a kind of reverse Stockholm syndrome?_ He needs this to stop. Right NOW. Or he will become a useless mess like all those ordinary people. He cannot allow himself to stoop to this level. He cannot afford to have _feelings._ Ugh, he shivers at the word.

He needs Moran to be found NOW and the threat to return to normal levels so she can go back to her flat.

He spends the rest of the week putting everything he has behind making that happen. He spends evenings at the Diogenes Club and comes home much after Molly has retired for the day. He makes sure to leave without meeting her in the morning.

After 3 days of this he gets a text message from her new phone:

‘Is everything ok?’

‘Yes,’ he texts back tersely.

‘Don’t worry’, he adds in the next message.

His phone vibrates again.

Dear lord in heaven, has she sent him an emoji?? A smiley face with open eyes looks back at him.

He shuts the phone and puts it away.

But one part of his brain is smiling while the other is raising threat levels to 10. Red alerts, klaxons, bells and sirens are ringing. The entire cavalry is being summoned.

The moon is running out of space for digging holes.

************************************************************************************

Much later that night as Mycroft did finally get to his bed by 3 am, he took a small piece of strawberry shortcake from the fridge and as he ate it he read his book:

**The Legend of the Spider and the Silken Thread held in God's Hand**

**There's an old Danish Legend with a lesson for us all**

**Of an ambitious spider and his rise and fall,**

**Who wove his sheer web with intricate care**

**As it hung suspended somewhere in midair,**

**Then in soft, idle luxury he feasted each day**

**On the small foolish insects he enticed as his prey.**

**Growing ever more arrogant and smug all the while**

**He lived like a 'king' in self-satisfied style -**

**And gazing one day at the sheer strand suspended**

**He said "I don't need this" so he recklessly rended**

**The strand that had held his web in its place**

**And with sudden swiftness the web crumpled in space.**

**And that was the end of the spider who grew**

**So arrogantly proud that he no longer knew**

**That it was the strand that reached down from above**

**Like the chord of God's grace and His infinite love**

**That links our lives to the great unknown.**

**For man cannot live or exist on his own.**

**And this old legend with simplicity told**

**Is a moral as true as the Legend is old.**

 

**Anonymous, found in an old bible circa 1940**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem was apparently found in an old bible circa 1940.   
> http://www.spiderzrule.com/spider5.htm


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now she is free to go back. “Thank you Mycroft,’ she says. ‘For everything. For looking after me, for keeping me safe. For keeping me sane,’ and she smiles at him. ‘I will miss this when I go back.’ Mycroft will be happy now that he is back to being alone, she thinks.

Fortunately within the week Moran has finally been found and eliminated.

Mycroft also gets a coded message from Sherlock that all is clear and he himself is likely to be able to return in 3 months’ time.

He sees both messages with extremely mixed thoughts (or are they _feelings_? Oh Mycroft! What has happened to you??)

Sherlock is almost done with his work. Very, very good.

Moran is no longer a threat. Very, very good.

Molly can go back to work. Very good.

Sherlock will be back in London. Very good.

Molly will move out of his house. Not good…..

Molly will meet Sherlock again………..

But of course this has all been a mirage, a pleasant illusion of an oasis in the emptiness of space. It is not for him. It can _never_ be for him. Even if it was not complicated enough that she seemed to be in love with his own brother, this was not a life he could live. His work was dangerous enough without the liability of _sentiment and relationships._

That evening he goes home in time for supper. It is Friday and his fingers choose to play a wild melody, passionate but tragic.

Molly looks at him with dark questioning eyes after he has finished. She is looking flushed and somehow moved by the music in a way that mesmerizes him.

‘What was _that_ about?” she asks him after a minute, with a soft smile, breaking the spell.

‘It’s a Nikolai Medtner Sonata in F minor Op. 5’, he says, knowing that this has absolutely no meaning for her. But what else can he say? _That I have some good news but mixed reactions to it and this stormy melody is what it is all about?_

So he settles down on his chair across her and informs her, in a tone that is almost cold because of his attempt to keep away any _feelings_ from it, that the danger is over and she can go back to work and to her flat tomorrow. She looks relieved to hear about the danger. But he thinks he sees something else also on her face when he tells her she can go back tomorrow. Something confusing. Something unexpected.

“Thank you Mycroft,’ she says. ‘For everything. For looking after me, for keeping me safe. For keeping me sane,’ and she smiles at him. ‘I will miss this when I go back.’

_I will miss **you** _ is what he hears and clenches his fist around the arm of his chair. He finds himself stunned by the impact of the realization that he will also miss _this_.

He will also miss **_her_**.

‘Yes, well, we still need to be vigilant,’ is what he says in a clipped voice. ‘And Sherlock isn’t back yet so it’s not over.’

 She seems a little taken aback at the sharp and cold response but she merely nods in agreement and gets up.

‘Got to pack’, she says as lightly as she can and goes to her bedroom. As she packs, slowly, she thinks about going back to her flat.

No more company for TV nights (you have been doing it alone for years now Molly!), reading alone (doesn’t everyone? Come on Molly!), no more piano nights (what is YouTube for Molly?).

Mycroft will be happy now that he is back to being _alone,_ she thinks. 

That night Mycroft reads his book as he chews absently on a peppermint stick but cannot really concentrate. _The Ancient Egyptian goddess, Neith, was thought to be in control of weaving together the threads of human destiny. As such, one of her many sacred symbols was that of the spider spinning her web. The idea of the world and time as a web of destiny is a common one throughout all cultures and time periods._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no knowledge of the piano but this piece is listed as one of the all-time romantic greats. Described as this for those of you who understand: The First Piano Sonata in F minor, Op. 5, is a four-movement work from 1901 and this work is already evidence of Medtner’s mastery of musical structure. An opening Allegro, dramatic and imbued like much Russian music with a bell-like sonority, is separated by a Intermezzo from a Largo divoto that reaches a Maestoso climax before plunging into the headlong Allegro risoluto finale. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vN-eyd6N5MA.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is home and she should be happy to be back but it seems so empty suddenly that she finds herself feeling miserable. She feels as though she is sleepwalking through her own life. She is no longer the same Molly. She looks up from her book to share something funny with Mycroft and then blinks and looks around her small living room at the No One sitting on the chair next to her and suddenly finds she doesn’t want to read her book any more. She no longer feels like baking.  
> Also, a surprise package is waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets a bit worse before it gets better. When has the path of love ever run smooth ?....sigh

Mycroft has gone to office very early the next day although it is Saturday morning and Jeff tells her that he did not get home that night. It is already Sunday afternoon by now so she says her goodbyes to all the others and is dropped home by Abdul, Mycroft’s driver.

She enters her flat and looks around. This is home and she should be happy to be back but it seems so empty suddenly that she finds herself feeling miserable.

She unpacks, takes a shower, eats some of the chicken vindaloo and rice that Maya has packed for her (along with enough cooked meals to keep in her freezer and feed her for a week!) and sits down to read. After she has read the same page three times without retaining a single word, she sighs, gets up and goes into the kitchen to bake.

She bakes 12 cinnamon rolls and when they are done she just looks at the tray.

Then an idea occurs to her and she smiles slowly, takes out her new phone, takes a photo of the tray and sends it to Mycroft.

‘Sorry you are missing this’ she says, and sends a smiley face also.

Mycroft is sitting in the Diogenes Club. There has been no work in the office but he could not face the thought of being at home when Molly left. He also did not want to think about what it meant that he did not want to do that. He just wanted to be able to pretend she had never been there so that when he went back home on Sunday evening it would be as it was 6 weeks ago.

He picks up the phone when it vibrates and sees that Molly has sent a message. He opens it and looks at the photo of the cinnamon rolls and the smiley face and the text and watches it till the screen goes blank and he never replies.

That night he sends back the trifle pudding that the butler (Jules? Jafar?) had kept on his bedside table and reads his book while drinking a glass of sparkling water.

_A spider web's ability to adapt to different levels of stress is the key to its remarkable stability, say scientists. Webs stood up to a variety of stresses, including hurricane-force winds. Scientists have discovered that a spider web's design allowed just a single thread to break so the rest of the web remained unharmed. "It is stunning because, if a building, a car or an aeroplane is exposed to large mechanical stress, it typically breaks as a whole and the entire structure becomes dysfunctional." explained Dr Markus Buehler from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, US, who led the study."_

*******************

Molly waits till the next morning and when the phone remains silent and empty she goes to work with all 12 cinnamon rolls in a box and gives them to Mike Stamford. She has a short chat with him about her ‘holiday’ and goes to the lab to catch up and get started. She works late and thinks that it is good to be back at what she does best.

Keep herself surrounded by dead people who tell her their stories but cannot hurt her feelings. She is not sure what she had expected from Mycroft and she is not sure if she understood what she had not expected and she is just so tired of thinking about anything at all.

She goes home, has a quick dinner and falls asleep early from the exhaustion of being back at work after such a long time.

The routine starts again and every day when she gets home she cooks, she cleans, she watches TV, she reads books.

But for some reason she no longer feels like baking.

She goes for walks, noticing once in a while the security detail that follows her at a discreet but ready distance. She buys her groceries and takes out the garbage and does her laundry.

She feels as though she is sleepwalking through her own life and a part of her brain marvels at the altered perception of time. It has been a scant 6 weeks ago that she left her flat for her ‘vacation’ but it already seems like a lifetime has passed.

She is no longer the same Molly.

The first week that she is back John asks her out to tea and gives her updates on his book. It seems to be coming together really well. She goes to meet him but does not bake anything for him this time. She promises to introduce him to someone she knows who edits scientific journals and happens to know someone else who could help edit his book.

She sits to watch TV that night and changes channels when she sees a Doctor Who re-run. She watches a dull, dull programme on understanding the role of new technology in their life. Until the topic shifts to consciousness and robots and she switches channels again.

The next week she visits Mrs Hudson and buys some flowers for her on the way. What is the use of taking baked stuff for someone who is so good at it on her own, she thinks. Mrs Hudson has indeed made some excellent bread pudding but Molly finds herself unable to eat more than a spoonful and that too because Mrs Hudson insists. She has tea and stays for an hour and listens to her talk about Mr. Chatterjee and Mrs Turner and her sister.

That night after dinner and clearing up she goes through her bookshelf and picks up an old favourite to re-read. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. She reads ‘ _Many were increasingly of the opinion that they’d all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.’_ and she looks up with a smile to share it with Mycroft and then blinks and looks around her small living room at the No One sitting on the chair next to her and suddenly finds she doesn’t want to read her book any more.

She doesn’t know what to do with the sick feeling in her stomach and so she spends some time watching funny cat videos before falling asleep on the sofa and waking up at 6 am with a very stiff neck indeed.

A week later Greg calls her up and tells her very proudly that he has been reviewing all the cases that Sherlock had helped with and he has submitted ironclad evidence that not only did the genius not commit any of the crimes, but the speed with which he helped Scotland Yard solve them actually saved so many lives. It looks like they will reinstate him soon. Not only that, but he has now become an instructor at the boxing classes. He has also started working on a mentorship programme with an old friend who runs a school for underprivileged children. She tells him that it is all so wonderful and he says ‘No Molly, _you_ are wonderful. You helped me do this. Can I take you out to dinner to say thank you?’

_It would be nice_ she thinks but it is Friday and she really wants to just sit at home and listen to some music. Maybe a piano recital on YouTube. And so she declines.

‘Some other time, thanks Greg’, she says.

She defrosts one more of the lovely dinners given by Maya and then surfs YouTube and listens half- heartedly to a few videos of sonatas. She doesn’t enjoy it at all and finally ends up watching videos of people kneading some colourful bits into slime for an hour or so and then she drags herself off to bed.

She is not sure what exactly she does with the weekend. It was all white noise and grey static, sad cold rain of disappointment drizzling over the bleak empty horizon of her life. But somehow it is finally over and she can go back to work.

*************************************************

On that Monday of the fourth week of getting back, as she is leaving the department at St Bart’s, someone from Mike’s office calls out to her. She stops. ‘’Hello Dr Hooper, I am Pamela, the new Secretary here’, says the young woman, coming up to her and handing her a parcel. ‘This came for you a few weeks ago from the looks of it. I am so sorry, but I was on leave for a couple of weeks so I just saw it today. Hope it was nothing urgent!’

Molly thanks her and takes it, quite baffled by what it could be. She opens it as she reaches the locker room and pulls out two T- shirts. **The Truth Will Set you free but First It will Piss you Off.**

She stares at the T- shirts and she is not sure if she wants to laugh or cry or shout with rage. Yes she is pissed off right now for sure but what is the truth that is going to set her free???

She cannot deal with this now. She just doesn’t have it in her to deal with this now. So she just stuffs the T- shirts in her locker and goes home, keeping her mind blank by sheer will power all through the Tube ride and all evening till she falls into a dreamless sleep.

The next day after work she takes the T- shirts home so she doesn’t have to see them every day on opening the locker. She goes to put them in the back of the second cupboard in her bedroom. As she tosses them there she sees Sherlock’s spare coat, spare scarf and two ironed shirts on a hanger and it is the final straw.

She sits on her bed and cries for a full hour. She does not know what or who she is crying for anymore but she really, really needs to cry. The tears don’t fill up the empty spaces inside her and neither does sleep but she still indulges in both and the next morning she feels so hollow that she thinks a gust of wind could blow her off.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is back. Is it a danger night ? Mycroft is taken by surprise.

**May**

A month has gone by and she is still sleep walking through her life when one Sunday morning she gets a text message from Mycroft. She opens it mechanically. It is blank.

She does not remember for a second what it means or why she should care.

She just looks at it for a very long time.

**June**

Sherlock is back. The game is finally over and the angels have won. He had fallen and was now risen.

He went to John first of course and made an ill- timed joke when he was with his clinic team at the local pub. And got punched in the face for his troubles.

John had apparently walked away from him in a rage then but had come back within 12 hours, realizing that there was nothing that could keep him away and even death could not do them apart. He finally gathered the courage to say to the man himself what he had said to his gravestone every month.

‘I love you Sherlock Holmes. Don’t leave me alone. Please don’t be dead. I love you. Please…..’

Mycroft had increased surveillance on 221 B as a danger night when he realized that John had stormed off after seeing Sherlock. What he did not expect was that the good doctor would come back and the danger that night would in fact be for his surveillance team as they ended up seeing more than an eyeful when John finally declared his love and Sherlock had reciprocated in equal measure…. for the next hour or so!

He had definitely not seen this coming and his first thought had been for Molly.

But what could he possibly say to her now after ignoring her so completely for the last three months? He reminded himself that alone protects us but the words sounded hollow even inside his brain. Would Molly also feel that alone would protect her, now that Sherlock had quite certainly closed all doors to whatever she may feel for him?

He took out his phone and looked at it and after a minute he put it back in his pocket. He had long since stopped going back home for supper, so he went to the Club as usual and slowly had something to eat and declined the dessert without even seeing what it was.

He read his book that night: _Have you ever heard of the story of Rumpelstiltskin, about a miller’s daughter who could spin straw into gold? This is just a fairytale, of course, but there are spiders that can actually produce gold silk. They are the Nephila spiders, or the golden silk orb-weavers. Indeed, the webs of these spiders shine like gold in the sunlight, ensnaring bees, whereas in the shade, they provide excellent camouflage. The largest piece of cloth made from gold spider silk measures 11 by 4 feet and took four years to make!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smiled at her and said ‘Thank you Molly. For saving me. For saving him. I don’t know how you had the courage to do all that. You are a real warrior!’
> 
> Later Molly sends a message that does not need a genius to interpret :)

The next day when Molly closed her locker door at the lab, Sherlock was standing there, arms in the pockets of his coat, collar up, blue scarf around his neck.

She could not believe her eyes and had reached out to touch his face. He was real! He was back!

He had held her hand and said ‘Thank you Molly. For saving so many lives. For saving me. For saving John.’

She had hugged him then and he had actually hugged her back.

And then John had come in behind him and she had looked away. Afraid that he would be angry with her for all the lies over all these months and years.

But he smiled at her and said ‘Thank you Molly. For saving me. For saving him. I don’t know how you had the courage to do all that. You are a real warrior!’

He had given her a first draft copy of the book he had written. It was dedicated to Sherlock of course but he had also acknowledged her: _Thank you Molly Hooper for giving me hope and courage and comfort and for being the guiding light in a storm._

She had looked back at him ‘Oh, thank you John! That is such a lovely thing to say……..’

‘I mean it Molly. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know how I would even have survived the first few months. You gave me a purpose and yes I am angry at being kept in the dark but I know it was not your secret to reveal.”

Molly had looked at Sherlock then and realized that she had not noticed the blue purple bruise spreading on his chin but wisely said nothing.

‘But your courage inspired me Molly and I found courage of my own to say what needed to be said.’

Then John had held out his hand to Sherlock, who had taken it with a smile and lifted their hands together to his lips and they had looked at each other in a way that could have shattered her heart into a million pieces if she was the Molly –from-one –year-ago.

As it was she just looked at them both and felt something unlock inside her. It was like she had been inside a cage of her own making and suddenly a door had opened.

She gave a fake punch to John on his arm and said ‘Good for you Doctor John Watson, you certainly didn’t waste any time this time around! I am so happy for you! ’ Sherlock gave her an almost shy smile and then they all trooped out of St. Bart’s. The two men went back to Baker Street, still holding hands when they sat in the taxi and she took the Tube home.

***********************************************************

She was feeling almost giddy with happiness at this point.

She stopped by at Tesco’s on her way and picked up a LOT of ingredients. She reached home and put it all down on the kitchen counter, took a quick shower to get rid of the morgue smell and slipped into her comfortable pyjamas, tied her hair up and got baking.

Mycroft knew that Sherlock would have gone to meet her earlier in the day but since they had no surveillance in the locker room at Bart’s he had no idea what had transpired. He had not personally watched the footage of her apartment even once since the day she had gone back but he watched today since he needed to know how she was doing. He saw her as she measured and poured and whisked and he thought she looked like she was humming. She was almost twirling in the kitchen. She put in one large cake to bake, then another one and then a third one. _Wow. She seemed to be certainly happy that Sherlock was back._

He felt a surge of anger suddenly. _Had his brother not bothered to tell her about John? This would only lead to more heartbreak. And more tears. She really did not deserve this at all and certainly not after all she had done._ He felt very frustrated and restless and his fingers were itching to call her but _what would he tell her and why would she listen to him?_

He walked away from the monitor and tried to think of all the other more important things he needed to use his brain for. There was a missing ship in the Pacific which was not meant to be found since all its passengers were those on witness protection programmes; the space station negotiations needed sorting out to ensure that China continued to look the other way for some of the surveillance sections on the India-Tibet border and the bloody Pope wanted to turn up in London in the middle of the child abuse scandal when child rights groups were threatening ( quite justifiably he thought) protests and bonfires if he was allowed in.

An hour passed and then one more and yet another one, as he wrapped his head around these problems and issued instructions to all his teams. He sighed as he crossed off the last thing on his list and his phone buzzed just then. He picked it up with his left hand and unlocked it mechanically. He turned to look at it and his heart gave a flip when he saw who the message was from.

Molly had sent him a message. It seemed to be a photo.

_Did he dare open it? Did he dare not opening it? Was there really a choice?_

He opened it.

She was wearing a pink T- shirt and some cartoon pyjamas, grinning from ear to ear and she had something grey in her hand which she was holding next to her.

_Could she have sent this to him by mistake instead of to some girlfriend?_

He was probably going to need reading glasses soon he thought as he tapped on the phone to expand the image. It zoomed in so much that all he could see was the pink T- shirt now and something written on it. He zoomed out again a bit and stared at what it said as though it was in some alien language.

**The Truth Will Set you Free but First it will Piss You Off.**

His brain froze.

She had made the T- shirt. The quote he had said he wanted on a T- shirt. She had done it. And she was wearing it.

She had got a T- shirt printed with the quote he had said he wanted and she was wearing it.

And laughing.

And she had sent him the photo from her new phone which had only his number saved on it.

He swiped the image slightly to one side and realized that what she was holding was another matching T- shirt in grey.

He did not need to be a genius to realize what this message meant and he was up and out of his office room before you could say ‘umbrella’.

He made one phone call to Anthea from the car giving some instructions and also asked her for something to be obtained and delivered to him when he reached where he was going.

****************************************************

Molly sent the message and waited. The cake was iced and ready, the champagne flutes were out as were the special (but mis- matched) china quarter plates and two forks.

She tried to read while waiting but she simply could not concentrate. She tried to lie down and do some calming breathing exercises but she kept feeling the giggles rising up. She looked at the phone every five minutes. It had been 30 minutes since she sent the message. Assuming he was in the country and in London at all, she would give him an hour at the latest.

If he wasn’t in London she hoped he would not be so cruel as to not send her any reply.

One hour. After all these months ..........she could surely wait for one hour.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost exactly to the hour after she has sent her message, there is a knock on her door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-dah ! As you can see I used my weekend very sensibly in completing this story because the muse seems to have ignited me and I was being consumed :) and then I edited it during times I should have been sleeping once the week started. But here it is now !! And don't miss the Epilogue!

Almost exactly to the hour after she has sent her message, there is a knock on her door. She stands still, suddenly nervous about what is going to happen. She straightens her pink T- shirt, wipes her palms on her pyjamas and goes to open the door.

Mycroft is standing there, looking almost every bit as nervous as she is feeling though he does seem to be hiding it a bit better. He seems to have lost a lot of weight.

She lets him come in and stands by the table where she has set out the cake. She twists her fingers around each other and really hopes he can understand what she is trying to say because she sure as hell cannot find real words to say.

He looks at the cake.

Three tiered, white buttercream icing, pink roses and silver edging.

A perfectly traditional wedding cake.

He smiles and with a twinkle in his eye gives her the envelope he is holding.

She opens it and finds printouts of 2 sets of tickets from a company called Honeymoon Travels.

From London Heathrow to cities in India, Indonesia and Italy.

‘Asked and answered Dr Margaret Katherine Hooper’, he says softly when she looks up. ‘Will you do me the honour?’

‘I will. For all of time and space Mr Reginald Mycroft Siger Holmes’, she says with a shy smile.

And since there is no one else in the flat who can say ‘You may now kiss the bride’, they take the decision themselves.

And again, since there is no one else in the flat to stop for, they continue doing it for a rather long time.

Later, as he sits on the sofa, wearing the T- shirt, with Molly on his lap feeding him cake while he is making her drink champagne, in between kissing, he is glad he had the presence of mind to ask for the surveillance to be shut down when he left his office earlier.

 

 


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly prefers Little Red Riding Hood to Little Miss Muffet.

**Two weeks later**

As they sit in the Royal Suite at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Agra, eating spectacularly unhealthy juicy _gulab jamuns_ and calming cool _phirni_ with rose water flavour, Mycroft opens his phone to read the e-book.

‘Hmm…still reading about spiders, my cupcake?’ Molly asks him.

He looks at her. ‘Yes, my sugarplum’, he says. And because he knows her better now he asks, ‘Why?’

‘Well……it’s just that I always thought Little Red Riding Hood was more interesting than Little Miss Muffet.’

_Really?! Would Molly never cease to surprise him._ ‘Why is that, my toffee apple?’

‘Well, let me see’, she says and sits up a bit, adjusting her red hoodie and counting off facts on her fingers:

  * The grey wolf has been the notorious villain of fairy stories for centuries, yet this highly intelligent animal has done little to warrant its terrifying reputation.
  * Wolves have remarkable powers of endurance.
  * Once a wolf has found a mate, they usually stay together for life.
  * Wolf packs are established according to a strict hierarchy, with a dominant alpha male at the top and an alpha female not far behind.
  * They often demonstrate deep affection for their family and may even sacrifice themselves to protect the family unit.



Then she peeps at him from under her eyelashes and smiles.

  * All of a pack’s adults help to care for young pups by bringing them food and watching them while others hunt.



And just like that, Mycroft realizes that the era of spiders is over.

It is now time to check out what the Big Bad Wolves be doing.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I could not resist putting them in AGRA even though Mary is not a part of this universe :)
> 
> I have some ideas for another episode in this story which is set maybe 20 years into the future but if any of you have prompts or suggestions for how you think that would go I would love to give it a try !
> 
> Till then, this is the happily ever after!!  
> Thank you for reading ! 
> 
> I am now working on some stories for the 'In Which' series which you can check out here if you like. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1010352

**Author's Note:**

> The details about spiders are mostly from this site: http://mentalfloss.com/article/87870/8-silkily-engineered-facts-about-spider-webs


End file.
